


Lunatics and Slaves

by orphan_account



Series: Lunatics and Slaves [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Bath Sex, C-PTSD, Character based on author, Dissociative Behavior, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Medication, Multi, Pansexual Jerome, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, References to Depression, Sexual Content, Shower Sex, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex, citizen to anti-villian, dubious consent??, im not killing off lgbtq+ characters for the fucking fun of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-09 16:03:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10415802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Forest Ward finds himself taken hostage after a bank heist pulled off by an infamous group of Arkham Asylum escapees.He feels much more at home than expected. Despite the criminals being open about their lives, he holds secrets that only someone like him can understand. So what happens when he becomes friends with Barbara Kean, the token femme fatale of the group, and becomes smitten with the Clown Prince of Crime, Jerome Valeska? Will he find someone to confide in and tell everything before it's too late? What will he do when Theo Galavan ruins everything?





	1. Chapter 1

I stood at the counter staring down at my I.D. card, shaking as the clerk handed over my money. My brown hair was pushed back in a sleek pompadour, and my glasses were just about falling off my nose. I probably looked horrible, based on the looks the clerk at the other end kept giving me. She stared at my blazer with disgust and I flicked my nutmeg eyes up to stare at the yellow clad brunette.

_ What? Does she have something against navy blue? Dumb bitch. You could bash her face in with her dumb penguin paper weight right now. yellow is the pitiful color here. _ I think impulsively. I squint as a migraine overcomes me. Again.

“Would that be all, sir?” The clerk in front of me asks. I collect the money, and nod with a shaky smile. Ripples of brain melting pain crushes my temples.

“Yes, thank you.” I say just as a voice raises from the crowded space. I hadn’t even been in the bank for half an hour yet, and all hell was already breaking loose.

“Gotham City Bank!” Two gun shots. I jump, ears ringing. I turn as a majority of the clients hit the ground and scream. My eyes lock on the haematic haired male and his party of white jacketed goons. “ _ My name is Jerome. _ And these are my friends! Please give a warm welcome to the Maniax.”

Everyone kept shaking, covering their heads, doing what they could to make themselves smaller. I bit my cheek, shaking as well but still being one of the last people standing. The others were security.

“I said clap!” The man roared. Reluctantly, his audience applauded him. He continued with a nasally giggle, he stared at the blue collars. “Now, fellas. Aren’t you being a bit hasty with your guns. After all, I just have this measly pistol. As well as a friend.”

A couple of swift  _ zips _ were barely audible as the guards fell dead onto the luxurious tile flooring. A soft gasp escaped my lips as I stared in horror. This caught the ginger’s attention. He stared at me and took a few long strides to meet me. I was met with a barrel to the chin. His eyes were menacing, but also kind of seemed deep and playful. His pupils were blown as he observed me. I swallowed thickly, pressing into the counter behind me.

“You got a problem?” he smiles through gritted teeth. I sputtered with my reply, because quite honestly; my mind was not on the danger at hand. His dark, mossy eyes were void like holes swallowing in every detail of my face, and he was probably drinking in the fear I felt from how close he was.

“Do you  _ realize _ how hard it’s going to be to get blood stains out of white spiderweb  _ marble _ ?” I scold him, voice cracking. Without thinking, I bring my hand up and smack him in the back of the head. I cover my mouth, going rigid and staring with wide eyes. He looks up at me and lets out the most  _ marvelous _ cackle that I had ever heard.

“ _ You _ … I like you.” he gets closer than he already is and I shy away, very uncomfortable. Yet, my senses were screaming, burning for him to get closer. “What’s your name, little man?”

“F-Forest…” I swallowed thickly.

_ He’s just what you need. To nudge you in the right direction. _

“Shut up.” I murmur to myself, yet Jerome seems to take it the wrong way. He frowns and cocks his head. He turns to look at a giant with no hair. He smiles, lolling his head back and almost dancing to the man.

“Aaron, would you?” he asks. The giant nods and stalks towards me. I can’t move back so I just continue to look terrified. He scoops me up and I’m thrown over his shoulder. I watch in horror as Jerome opens fire on the crowd, blindly. His posse follows their leader, and soon enough everybody on the opposing side is bleeding.

That’s how I was taken hostage. Not silently. No use of drugs, or rope. Just a psychotic redhead and his overgrown potato taking me out of the bank like a sack of flour. It wasn’t the most glamorous or fun abduction, but it was something.

*

It was a long bumpy ride in the back of a white electrician’s van, so bumpy--in fact--that I was knocked unconscious on the metal wall. My head was hot and flames of pain licked my cranium while I had melty dreams of stairs. Odd dreams were better than none at all these days. Even horrifying dreams of appendages hanging from hooks in an endless cave was better to experience than a seemingly neverending oblivion.

When I came to, I was laid down in a soft bed. A very soft bed. I opened my eyes and looked around at the blurry shapes. Smudged grays mixed with white and ebony and a bit of sage green. The cotton of my undershirt made soft noises of friction against the sheets, which I could only assume was polyester and silk microfiber. I willed myself to sit up and glanced around for my glasses, finally spotting them on a white ovular table adjacent to the very large bed. Coupling my spectacles was a mug of coffee, and my smaller belongings.

I slid out of the comfy surface and padded to the table. I noticed that I was in a pair of very comfy pair of plaid green flannel pajama pants. I placed the glasses on my face and sighed as I realized my migraine was virtually gone. In front of the table was a large window sectioned off like a camera screen by ebony panes, about half a foot in thickness. Sliding my hand into the handle of the white mug, I smell the tea. The strong scent of lemon and sen cha filled my nose and I smiled, shoulders slumping in relaxation. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I was being held prisoner by someone. Usually when I read of victims held in captivity, they are kept in dingy, concrete confines underground.

“Oh, good.” I start and spin around to see a woman in a white cotton shirt and a pair of athletic shorts. Her long legs gave way to a pair of dainty feet in black ballet flats. I just stared at the blonde, her eyes piercing me with shades of ice blue and navy. “How’s the tea? I tried to find something calming. You had Prozac in your pocket when you got here.”

“...am I?” I asked, voice giving way. I cleared my throat and licked my lips, smiling nervously. “Pardon my bluntness, but where am I?”

The woman sighed, seeming unamused with my curt alarm, she tilted her head and looked down, “Right. How about we--”

“Barbara,” another voice joined, and a dark hair man emerged from the door. It was Theodore Galavan, one of the mayoral elects. He smiled at me but kept speaking to the woman. “No need to withhold information from our guest.

“My apologies for the intrusion on your person, Mr. Ward.” Theo addresses me and strides to me, holding out a poised hand. I met it and shook. “We decided to clean your belongings of any fluid from today’s fiasco, and we had to rid you of any evidence--”

“You were behind the heist?” I ask out of confusion, instead of worry.

“On the contrary,” he holds his hands open in a warm manner and turns to gesture to Barbara. “It was Jerome and Ms. Kean’s idea. I am just a...babysitter if you would.”

I scoff, “Well, teach them to keep blood from luxury tile.”

From that I earn a hearty chuckle, and a clap on the back. I smiled too, feeling like a welcomed guest instead of a prisoner.

“I have a feeling you will fit in with the Maniax, respectively.” Theo leads me towards the door behind Barbara.

*

Theo dressed me for dinner, and I found myself in an amaranthine blazer and black slacks. Instead of the deep colour of my abdomen, it was the black and white saddle shoes I sported that drew the attention of everybody when I was sat at the head of the table. I was proclaimed the guest of honor, for my “bravery, humor, and good nature” by Mr. Galavan. Despite him being the celebrity in the room, it was Jerome whom I found to be the cynosure of my meal. And I don’t mean that in the same sense as the cannibal, to my left, would.

The boy kept eyeing me, and smiling like he were planning to eat me for dinner instead of the greens and al forno conchiglie that Theo had ordered some chefs to make for us. My stomach barely rumbled, which came as no surprise. I sipped my icy water and nibbled at the spinach stuffed shells on my plate. My eyes had been plastered downward to avoid eye contact with the others. Finally I looked up, and smiled at Theo.

“Whoever you hired to cook tonight, must have a gift, Mr. Galavan.” I say, semi-confidently, attempting not to appear as a kiss-ass. Barbara sipped her wine and Jerome rested his chin on his hand, almost preparing for something. Finally, Ms. Kean piped up. She was smiling like she was proud of me.

“I was the planner of the meal, actually. I briefly saw a card in your wallet for a no-kill shelter and wanted to make you feel at home.” her giggle ran out through the dining room, “Sure, we may me crooks, and killers, but we’re still good people.”

I smile fondly, appreciating her commentary. I decide to carry the conversation a bit farther, but am interrupted by the ginger at the other end of the table.

“You’re anti-animal cruelty then, Forest? Must be a hippie.” he pronounced my name like two different words,  _ For-rest _ . He speaks into his glass, as he takes a sip, “Wonder what my snake charming mother would’ve thought about you.”

I snort and laugh out, “I may be anti-animal cruelty, but I am not anti-cruelty!  _ I hate  _ people.”

A few hollow chuckles followed, and then there was the musical cackle of Jerome. His eyes twinkled as he stared at me. My heart only fluttered in response. His gossamer hair caught in the overhead lighting and I swear I was suddenly staring into a raging fire, standing dormant at the mouth of Hell.

He rests on his knuckles once more and licks his lips lightly, “My mommy beat me, so I killed her. Babs was hypnotized into slitting her parents throats from ear to ear. What’ve you done?”

I dropped my fork, flushing in embarrassment. Shrugging, I answer honestly, “A few petty crimes, I was never caught for. Possession of tobacco underage, underage drinking, underage sex...twice, taking someone else’s prescription drugs, shoplifting, defacing of public property, defacing of  _ private _ property, trespassing… So on.”

They all gaped at me and then a grin bloomed on Barbara’s face, “I say we go on the range tomorrow, boys.”

*

I was getting ready for bed, when I realized yet again that I was taken hostage. I was in the plaid pants again, and my undershirt. My toothbrush hung lazily in my mouth as I washed my hands and finished extracting my fingers from old rings. Eventually I was in bed, turning the lights out. I laid down.

Hours passed and then my door opened and a breathy whisper met my ears, “You’re still awake, aren’t you?”

I sat up and found the silhouette of a boy getting into bed next to me. I stammered, “Y-yes, Mr. Valeska. Afraid I am--”

“Just call me Jerome, little man. Everyone does.” He purrs, pushing me back down on the bed. My body reacted by sending tingles across my flesh. His fingers were cold and burned against my hot skin. He shifted closer to me, and I noticed the glint of his eyes. He wasn’t smiling like usual. “You were a mistake too, weren’t you?”

I sucked in a breath, staring at him in shock. Flicking my eyes away, my face burned. I sighed quickly and attempted to move away, but he rolled and pinned me down. “Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were the case.”

He leaned down and mouthed along my neck and jaw, breath like ocean waves in my ear; calming and uncontrollably exciting. I itched to touch him, but I was concerned this wasn’t real and I’d be indulging myself in something I couldn’t get again. And if it was real, what mess would I be getting myself into. Jerome trailed his fingers up my chest and I groaned, urging him on. He was careful and meticulous about his actions, but arousing nonetheless. Finally, he planted a kiss on my lips, and my body jolted in response.

“Jerome,” I exhaled, shifting slightly. My core constricted in response to the waves of attention he showed me. My back arched and I gingerly touched his hair. He rutted down on my thigh and growled, kissing me again. That’s when I came to my senses and gasped out. “Jerome...Jerome, stop.”

Pulling away, he looked alarmed, hair tussled and face flushed in the city and moon’s light through the large window. I stared up at him and pulled a labored breath to my lungs. He licked his lips and sat up, almost apologetically. I propped myself up on my elbows and cleared my throat.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for, I assure you.”

He gave me a quizzical look and started to get out of my bed, movements sloth-like and disappointed. Jerome turned and smiled, surely, “See you around, little man.”

He left my room and closed the door behind him softly. I laid back and sighed, heart pounding away like a jackhammer. Did he really just try to fuck me? My lungs felt like they couldn’t inflate any more. I closed my eyes and swallowed thickly, body betraying me as I roll over and moan into my pillow. I fell asleep soon after, body buzzing from the excitement.


	2. Chapter 2

It was around 10 o’clock in the morning when I woke up. Sweat coated my back, forehead, and inner thighs. I pulled aside the warm blankets and sighed in relief at the refreshing air hitting my body. I pulled on my glasses and blinked at the bright cloudy light from outside. My head was flooded with images from last night, the way Jerome looked shrouded halfway in darkness; lust kicking it’s way back into my stomach. I flushed and took a deep breath, head feeling constricted. I stood and stretched before shuffling to the door beside the bed. It was a dark wood like the rest of the room’s furniture.  
The bathroom was a different scheme, in old vintage whites and grays. The sink was a long porcelain trough like surface, with a single drain placed at the bottom of an incline. In the middle of the room was a very large bath tub, clawed and lonely looking. On the wall opposite the sink, was a large shower with glass walls and stone laid flooring, tucked cozily into the corner. A toilet and bidet sat beside it. I sighed, relieving myself of my sleeping attire and finding my--now spotless--clothing from the heist sitting on a dark oak cabinet next to the sink.  
After cleaning myself and changing into my clothing, I left my hair in it’s dark loose curling locks. The dining room was empty, except for Barbara and Theo at one end, Aaron in the middle eating cereal, and the stout cannibal opposite him. Theo looked up and grinned, standing.  
“Mr. Ward, I hope you had a refreshing rest. Barbara and I were just discussing something, if you would like to join us.” his smile radiated, pearly white teeth on display for all. I blinked and nodded, sliding into the seat opposite Barbara. I smiled at her and we exchanged our good mornings. Mr. Galavan sat down, seriousness freezing his face in an expression of cold business. “Now, Mr. Ward, do you want to stay here, or go home?”  
Barbara stared at me, expectantly, and I gave it thought. Theo continued, “There are dangers with both options; if you go home, there is a chance that the GCPD will know who you’ve been with. They will interrogate you, and if I do say so, myself, Mr. Valeska will not be pleased if he is locked up again. If you stay here, I am sure you can guess the dangers of being here.”  
Nodding in understanding, I reply, “I’m not sure. I don’t know if this-- If I’m cut out for this. But, I don’t exactly have anyone else.”  
“I hoped for that answer,” he smiled brilliantly and looked up at me finally, “I have a proposal. To lower any suspicion of your working with the Maniax, you may be my in home assistant.”  
I widened my eyes. I begin to nod at the offer and I stumble over my reply, “I’ll be needing some things from home.”  
“Of course, Mr. Ward.”  
*  
Instead of “going to the range” like Barbara had suggested over dinner, she and I went across the city to get some things from my apartment. Theo’s sister, Tabitha Galavan joined us on the trip as a bodyguard of sorts. She was an attractive woman, with mocha brown skin and sleek black hair. I could sense some sort of relationship between Barbara and her, but I didn’t dwell on it. Afterall, no use in being nosy.  
We arrived at my apartment, and all headed inside as quickly as possible, being careful as not to be suspicious. Barbara even went as far as tucking her hair under a large black sun hat, and wore sunglasses to match. When I let them in, Tabitha immediately started exploring the space, looking through my books and at pictures, her eyes lingering on notebooks. I started toward my bedroom to grab a bag and pack a few clothes. I took my favorite books, and a leather bound journal. In the side, I tucked a photo of my mother and I smiling in her hospital room.  
In the bathroom, I stuffed my medications into the bag. Prozac, Wellbutrin, vitamins, Ibuprofen, and other concoctions. My toothbrush and toothpaste followed, along with my brush. Finally, I located to the living room, and started grabbing more things I wouldn’t be able to replace. My mother’s copy of Mein Kampf, my grandfather’s old dog clock, my father’s leather jacket, among other things.  
“Your little sister looks so cute. Did she live with someone else?” Barbara asked, staring at a picture of my grandfather standing with a young girl in a purple and black velvet dress. She was poised like a devious child, head tilted and hands clasped around a bouquet of roses. I stayed silent and she took the hint. Tabitha stared at me before speaking.  
“Are you ready to go?”  
“Yes, ma’am,” I answer.  
*  
My head was pounding when we arrived back at the pent-house. I had been thinking too much about Jerome’s antics from the night before. I think Tabitha and Barbara could tell that something was up, because I was flushed bright red when I lugged all of my belongings into my room. I was setting up the picture on my bedside when I realized there was a particularly interesting tuft of red in my bed. I pulled the blanket back to find Jerome laying down, face somber as he looked up. I took a step back, confusion on my face.  
“Jerome, are you okay?” I looked away, thinking of the night before, yet again. He sat up and smiled, bordering on his horrendous grin.  
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” he chuckles, covering up his solemn attitude by forcing a laugh. “Think of it! A nightmare having nightmares…”  
I immediately scoffed, “You aren’t a nightmare. You’re just misunderstood.”  
He stared up at me and looked away, standing the half a foot taller than I. His lip twitched, “Tch. Yeah, isn’t that what people usually say? I mean, I don’t feel bad for everything--”  
“You don’t feel anything,” I finish. He stares at me, almost in awe. I raise my eyebrows and look up at him. “Some people get rid of the numbness by drinking, self-medicating, having sex, hitting people. You do it by creating chaos. In my eyes, it’s a lot more productive, scraping the shit from the surface of the earth.”  
“I knew you were something special.” he grins and leans in, attempting to kiss me--I’m assuming. I place a hand on his chest, and glare at him. He stops, dropping his shoulders and looking absolutely unamused. “What?”  
“I’m going to lay down with you so you can nap.”  
“What?” he repeats. I roll my eyes.  
“My mom used to lay down with me when I would wake up from a bad dream. I’m going to lay down with you, and you’re going to nap.” I explain, saltily. He shrugs and crawls back into his space, I kick off my shoes, and pull off my jackets. Laying down, I pull his stupid carrot head onto my shoulder. I clear my throat and he actually wraps his arms around me, getting comfortable.  
“Tell me about yourself, Forest.” he murmurs and I stare at his head. He looks up lazily and shrugs, “You could easily read about me in a case file. But I doubt I could find a study on your behavior.”  
I scoff, “Psychopathic tendencies, severe depression and anxiety, sprinkled with OCD and psychosis? You’d be surprised.”  
“Now I’m even more intrigued, Forest. You’re being unfair.” I stare at him before finally agreeing to share personal information.  
“My father left me when I was born. Mom and I were barely surviving after the bastard left.” I stared deep into his mossy eyes, entranced and continuing my story. “She remarried sometime when I was five. He was nice, I suppose. Mom and him would yell a lot but I was sure it was okay.”  
Jerome laid back down, listening intently, as I discussed every last detail.  
*  
I was shy. Antisocial by psychologists’ standards. I was in daycare at a young age. The kids were ruthless, and my mom was always in school finishing her degree. She cared for me when I was little. We slept in the same bed when we didn’t have money to replace my cradle. It wasn’t until after my grandmother died that Mom grew distant. I guess sometime in there she started dating Him. I was too young to remember anything other than calling him Uncle.  
I adored Him. He was nice and He took care of me when my mom wasn’t around. I started calling Him my dad before He even married my mom. That was my mistake. Her mistake was marrying the bastard.  
I was rambunctious in school. I never finished my work, if I did it at all. That's when it started. He slammed his fists on things and threatened me when I didn’t follow directions. By the time I was seven, He hit me initially every night. I was terrified. I started developing an apathetic view on life. I tried to kill myself seven times. I was drinking and popping pills by the time I was thirteen. High school changed me and I saw a therapist. By the time I was seventeen, I had smoked my way through a gas station, flew myself on cloud nine, fucked myself out senseless, and died on the inside.  
*  
Jerome wasn’t asleep, he was just listening. He looked up and smiled deviously. I was shocked with the response he gave to the story. And I was even more surprised when he climbed up and onto my lap, straddling the denim. He leaned into my ear and whispered, “I can tell you aren’t better.”  
Anger bubbled up in my chest. He was nerve wrackingly erratic. His undeterminable behavior started to punch me in the stomach. Jerome was really starting to get on my last nerve. My eyes narrowed as I pushed him off. “Get off me, you psycho. I’m fine.”  
He snickered, finding amusement in my irritation. He purred to me, stalking toward me, “You’re like me, Forest. You know it. Don’t suppress it. Trust me, it’s dangerous.”  
I stood and stared up at him, snarling, “Don’t fucking lie to me, Jerome. I didn’t kill my MOTHER.”  
My voice rang out in the room, and he staggered back in shock before starting to laugh. His eyes turned up in a terrifying apathetic gaze, void of any glee he was presenting otherwise. Jerome straightened up and strode to me, my heart pounding harder. My eyes burned, he was undeniably attractive but he was absolutely fucking insufferably angering. He grabbed the crown of my head, ripping hair from my scalp.  
“You didn’t care for her though, little man. Tabitha told me about your pictures. Your eyes were so dark.” he growled, still smiling. My hands flew to his fist and I slammed down, hearing loud pops from his knuckles. Peeling his hand away, I pushed him. He staggered back and held his hand, humming in pain. His face darkened and I realized I had made a huge mistake. “You hated your dad even more though. And yourself. You hate the world, Forest.”  
I stared at him and glanced at the door behind me past the door. Jumping on the bed, I crawled to the other side and started running for the exit. The six foot maniac made it there first though. So I retreated, faster this time and dove for the bathroom door. I turn and attempt to slam and lock it, but Jerome is much too fast. He presses his whole body against it and I slam into the wall. A searing hot pain swims throughout my shoulder, and I let out a delicious groan before staggering back into the sink.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content, however, after the asterisk is plot driving dialogue, so try not to miss it.

Jerome laughed, grabbing my shoulders. I whimpered as he pressed into the throbbing muscle. Mustering up as much strength as I could, I kicked him in the thigh. He moans and I can’t help but feel even better. He was in fact like me. Masochistic, sadistic, spiteful, and angry at the world. I stagger forward and throw my fist out. My knuckles connect with his jaw and I yelp in pain.

“Fuck!”

He stands and grabs me by the neck. He doesn’t constrict but he does hold tight enough that it hurts. I fight back, scratching him and spitting at the  _ awful _ smile. He just laughs. I didn’t feel threatened, however.

“Let  _ go _ , Jerome!” I yell. We just stare at each other though, and suddenly our mouths were smashed together in a frenzy of hate and sexual ferocity. Our teeth gnashed in a fury, blood being drawn from my lip. Stumbling over each other, we ended up in the shower on the other side of the room.

One of us must have bumped the water control dial because cold pulses beat my clothes and hair, and we were both drenched. I could barely breathe between the shock of the icy water, the liquid going in my nose and his face dangerously close to mine. Jerome yanked impatiently on my undershirt and I complied, peeling it off as he did the same. I suddenly understood the mistake I made as he eyed the scar tissue of my breasts. His smile was genuine and uncontrollable.

“You’re a freak of fucking nature.” he purred over the hammering water, eyes dark as they feasted on the conflicting imagery of my flat, scarred chest, and curvy stomach. “ _ My _ freak of nature.”

The phrase stirred something in me and I pulled him close, kissing up his jaw and back onto his lips. My mind rushed as I made out with one of the most wanted criminals in Gotham. And fuck, it was  _ hot _ . The temperature of the water sent a pain down my spine that made my stomach tie in knots. Jerome had me by the neck and waist, moaning between kisses. Everything was foggy and melded together. His fingers were leaving bruises on my now white skin. I scrambled for the dial and turned the water a bit warmer before pulling away and panting. I stared up at him and uttered only two words, “Touch me.”

And he did.

We both undressed the rest of the way, and exchanged shy advances, his fingers exploring the only female parts I had left. And for once I wasn’t bothered, I didn’t hate my lower body. The ginger pressed me against the wall and I gasped softly, as the pleasure hit me in waves. I felt like I was gasping and choking on air. His eyelids fluttered shut and he kissed me again. My body was on fire, and I understood that this was how I was going to accept love. This is how I wanted it.

I reached for the water and turned it off, as he delved deeper into me. I jolted and clawed his shoulder, moaning my content loud and clear, “Oh,  _ fuck _ , Jerome.”

We agreed to move to the bathtub and got comfortable in the large space. Water began pooling into the tub and he pulled me down to lay on the floor of the container as he leaned down and pushed himself into me. My heart clenched, a moan caught in my chest as Jerome positioned his hands on the edge of the tub behind my head. He started thrusting into me and finally every pressured noise tore from my insides.

He was mechanic as he pulled back slowly, and pounded back into me. Over and over. I did know where to look, or if I should even keep my eyes open. I looked up at him and he was gazing down at me. I couldn’t tell what feeling was on his face, but he wasn’t stoic. Jerome leans down, resting his forehead on mine. My stomach tightened with pleasure and I gasped as he hit my A-spot. I scrambled to kiss him, the water of the tub up to my belly button now. My body moved with him for a beat, but he pulled me up onto his lap swiftly.

“You’re fucking mine.” he growled. I heard a twinge of desperation in his voice and felt my heart tighten.

In a position like he was praying to me, I rode him. His hands roamed my body, still keeping me steady. I threw my head back and clamped a hand over my mouth as a moan tore from my chest. My orgasm finished and I leaned down to kiss him, rolling my hips on him. He dodged and kissed my clavicle, grip tightening on my back as his muscles pulled taut. I took the initiative of pulling myself down onto him, playing with his hair, doing anything to overstimulate his senses. His breath caught, and he groaned into my shoulder, much gently with me as he came.

I stared down at him as he slowly looked up at me. Emotions welled up in my chest as I choked back words I wouldn’t be able to take back. His eyes fluttered and he turned the water off, hugging my chest and peppering kisses over my breast. The water was up to his rib-cage.

*

We cleaned up after our activity and Jerome finally took a nap next to me. I was sore to say the least. I gazed down at the serene looking psychopath, next to me and pet his damp hair. A bruise was blossoming on his face among other marks on our bodies. I kissed his forehead, feeling admiration for the man. 

_ “You’re fucking mine.” _

I was his. I was content with that. I laid down and closed my eyes, murmuring to the both of us, “Addictive Personality Disorder shouldn’t be too much of a problem…”

Hours later, I woke up. Jerome was still in a deep sleep beside me, freckled back on full display. I had to restrain myself from kissing down his spine. He needed the rest. I stood up and fished around in my bag for clothing. I settled with a pair of boxers, a pair of patterned flannel pants, and a vintage band tee shirt. Afterwards I shuffled out to the living space.

Barbara was on the couch, reading and drinking a blush pink wine. I decided to join her. Staring at the book, I smiled.

“Feminist theory? Didn’t peg you for the type, Barbara.” I tilted my head and huffed out a laugh.

“Just because I’m nuts, doesn’t mean I’ll let some penis-centric society take hold of me and use my assets for danger. I know how to fight.” she shrugs and continues reading. I nod, agreeing with her statement. Despite not having much in the way of assets, I still understood the importance of respecting one’s body however one sees fit, whether it's having fun sleeping around, or saving yourself.

“You know, for a group of criminals, you all are pretty stagnant.” I ponder.

“We’re planning something big.” she replies nonchalantly and with a bored tone. I sit up, my interest peaking.

“Well?” I press, “What is it?”

“I’m going to see my ex-fiance, and Jerome is going to have a little fun at the GCPD precinct.” Barbara looks up, smiling smugly. My stomach drops, and I paled.

“What do you mean?”

“He has a message for Gotham.”

I turned away, my intestines knotting. Panic welled in my chest. I was afraid of him being caught, but I was also afraid of what might happen to a friend of mine who worked there. Barbara stared up at me with alarm.

“You’re going to  _ tell _ someone.” she hissed, standing. I took a step back and shook my head.

“I don’t want Edward to be hurt, Barbara.” I sputtered, “Please, spare him.”

She stared at me, settling down and crossing her arms. Finally, she complied. Her eyes narrowed, “Fine, but only if he isn’t there. If he’s on the range, he’s fair game.”

I nodded and gulped, turning on my heel and returning to my room. I walked to the desk, regaining my composure. Picking up the phone that resided on the desk, I dialed his number. He picked up on the third ring.

Plastering a smile on my face, I said, “Hi, Ed. I was wondering if you’d like to go out for lunch tomorrow. It’s on me.”

*

“So, what’s going on in your small world, Nygma?” I ask, sipping my coffee. I took him to a cafe across town, keeping him as far as possible from the precinct. We were waiting on our sandwiches, my leg fidgeting as I watched him toy with a fork.

“Oh, you know,” he smiles up at me, chin on his palm as he glances up. “Just… Looking at dead people-- Evidence.”

“They’ve let you start doing autopsies? You aren’t certified for that, I thought.” I sat up straight, feeling less uneasy.

“I mean. They haven’t  _ let  _ me…” His eyes darted down and he shrugged. “I sneak in sometimes to observe and prod the cadavers.”

I watched his mannerisms and cleared my throat, “Ed, I know you’re lying.”

He stared at me in shock and I raise my brows, continuing my interrogation. “What are you hiding?”

I had known Edward Nygma for a couple of years. He was a friend of my mother’s from college. After she died, I befriended him and we repeatedly bonded over tea and our lack of socially acceptable behavior. He gave me a nervous look before leaning in and shaking his hands.

“Forest,” he starts, licking his lips before looking around and continuing, “You remember my mentions of Ms. Kringle?”

“Yes. Kristen, the secretary?”

“Precisely.” he nods, “Anyway, I’m afraid she is in trouble.”

“Trouble?” I ask, alarmed. I lean in and whisper frantically, “Eddie, if you think someone is after her, you need to tell someone!”

“N-no, Forest, listen…” he stares at me, burning a hole in my skull. “I think…”

“Ed, spit it  _ out _ .”

“Hm,” he thinks about his next words carefully, “Well, I think a vigilante is killing her...partners. She comes to work with these  _ bruises _ , Forest.”

Understanding hits me and I cough out a dry laugh, “You killed someone.”

“No!” he scoffs, obviously lying. “ _ No _ . Forest, you’re being silly. I would never-- I could never harm someone.”

My curiosity peaks and I settle on my elbows, hands clasped, “What did you use, Eddie? A hatchet? A shiny gun?”

“You know what?” he holds his hands up, laughing softly and raising his brows. “Forget I said anything. I  _ did not _ hurt anyone. I’m just worried about her.”

Our sandwiches came and I smiled, nodding slowly. My stomach growled and we enjoyed every bit of our meal. Instead of homicide, we talked about old memories and the effects of bleach on rotting flesh.

We parted our ways at the entrance to the subway and my stomach dropped, knotting in my feet. I checked the cell phone Theo had gifted me with that morning and read the text on the screen. They had arrived back at the penthouse. On my way back, I stopped by a small convenience shop and grabbed a bottle of water.

*

I walk into the flat and stop short, staring at the blood on Jerome’s face. My heart picked up and I hurried forward, hands flying up to his cheeks. I turn his head from side to side, while he chuckled. He grabs my hand and tells me it’s okay, but I keep worrying.

“Is it your’s?” I say, biting my cheek out of unease.

“Of course it is, she head butted me.” he laughs, and I turn, glaring at Theo.

“Why don’t you get the first aid?” I snap.

“Well, if you hadn’t noticed; Greenwood seems to be missing.”

“I shot him! I told you.” Jerome turns to declare, smiling with pride.

“You shot a cannibal.” I look at him, clarifying. He nods quickly, like a proud child. I huff, trying to figure out what mess I had gotten into. My brain throbs with an oncoming migraine, and two words stick out in my mind:  _ kill him _ .


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are getting short. My apologies. I'm kind of rushing.

I lay in bed, trying to focus on my book, but all I could do was think and think and think. My hair was tousled, and circles were forming under my eyes. I had skipped lunch and dinner, locked myself in my room and now it was eleven at night. My sheets were messed and tangled in themselves, like my guts. A knock woke me from my thoughts and I turned, watching Jerome close the door behind him softly. He had a devilish grin plastered on his face and a plate in his hand.  
“I was thinking,” he plucked an apple from the plate and nudged it between my teeth. “You could eat, and then we could play a little.”  
My cheeks flushed and I squinted, feeling irritation rise in my chest, “It that what I am, Jerome? A toy?”  
He looks down at me, frowning and setting the plate down. His hair was wet, like he had taken a shower. His teeth clenched as he spoke carefully, “Where did that come from?”  
I sat up and stared at him, my chest on full display in the full moonlight dripping through the windows. I cocked a brow and speak nonchalantly, “Oh, you know. I’ve just been thinking, about how you and Theo only care about yourselves.”  
“Keep going. Forest,” he stalked toward me with every breath I took, “I want to hear everything you have to say.”  
I gulped and took a shaky breath, heart pummeling my ribcage as I tried to form sentences. My mouth was dry suddenly, “Theo is using you, Jerome. I think he’s planning something bigger--”  
“More about me, little man.” he annunciated, eyes pinpointed on me. I shifted uncomfortably.  
“This is what I mean,” I snap. “You only want to hear about yourself. You don’t care about others. You just want to use them for entertainment. Why? All because mommy didn’t love you and daddy was a blind old prick?”  
I stand but he pushes me pack down, easily. His hand clamps down around my throat and I gasp, head quickly filling with pressure. He stares down at me, inches from my face.  
“My mother was a slut, who couldn’t give a damn about commitment. Not even to her own child. And my father… Cicero was a dusty old man, who couldn’t tell my mother from a virgin and his son from a slave.” his grip tightened and I flung my hands to grapple at his fingers, giving him a frightened look. “As for me… If I only cared about myself, Forest. Do you think I would have brought you food? Do you think I would take any interest in you, at all?”  
He leaned in close to my ear and I couldn’t help but feel aroused by the situation. Jerome whispered, “Do you think I would have allowed you to come, Forest?”  
I whimpered, gasping out his name as the edges of my vision darkened. He chuckled darkly, moving between my thighs and pressing into my groin while he leaned over and held onto my neck.  
“You’re heart is beating like a little bunny’s. You know as well as I the dire consequences you’ve gotten yourself into. I could easily kill you, and you have just realized that. You’ve just come to understand your own mortality.” And with that his hand released and I coughed, gulping in air as my head spun. I groaned, electricity racing through my veins and up my spine. My hands shook as I took hold of his face and laughed, tears pricking my eyes. I kissed him gently and laughed some more.  
“God, you’re something, Jerome Valeska.” I breath out, as he sooths the growing bruises on my neck with his lips. We ended up making love, rough at first, but he began to act tenderly toward me, apologizing briefly. I forgave him, of course.  
*  
When I woke up the next morning, Jerome was shaking me. He was dressed nice, instead of his white buckled jacket. He was grinning, setting clothing on my bed. He snickered, “Forest, get up. We’re going on a field trip!”  
“What?” I grumbled, sitting up and rubbing my eye. He started tying an ugly abstract tie, that he pulled off surprisingly well. He whistled, pulling the covers back and starting to dress me. I grabbed his hands and stared at him. “Jerome, where are we going?”  
“Daddy Smashing.” he grinned up at me. I unleash his hands and within moments I’m dressed in a bright red velvet suit and black shirt. I wore the same shoes that I did to dinner. “And then, tonight, at the Gala; I’m putting on a magic show for all the happy rich folk.”  
“Who are the targets?” I ask wholeheartedly.  
He shrugs, tying my shoes for me before standing and peering down at me, lips drawn into a thin line. Jerome pecks my lips and raises a brow, “Does it really matter?”  
Tabitha joined us as we rode to Paul Cicero’s apartment. Tabitha kept complaining about not eating breakfast, to which Jerome made a sarcastic comment about Barbara’s and Tabitha’s sex life. I choked on the orange juice I snuck with us.  
It didn’t take us too long to frame and kill Cicero. I was absolutely mortified to hear Jerome’s story about his birthday. I decided that I would have to make his birthday special this year when he turned nineteen. In all the mission was successful, despite the slight annoyance caused by the police.  
I watched with distaste as the two men sent climbed over each other to find Jerome. It was pretty amusing, as well. The dimwits had used the tranquilizing gas on themselves, and obviously had vertigo. The slimmer of the two detectives, Jim Gordon, even tried to choke Jerome. I remember giving him an incredulous look, and he stared back at me. I know he saw me, and so I took his partner's gun and promptly pistol-whipped him across the dumb fucking face.  
Jerome, Tabitha, and I were able to make it back to the penthouse with barely a scratch. Tabitha congratulated me on the successful pistol whip.  
“Have you ever shot a gun, even?” she asked, legs crossed as she watched me. I smiled simply.  
“My bastard step-father owned a few. It was a camping tradition to see how many milk jugs I could burst.” I answered, shrugging. I scratched my chin, feeling stubble under my nails to match the soft sktch-sktch. I made a mental note to shave before the Gala, and looked out the window. “I always fantasized of shooting him.”  
Tabitha twitched his mouth in a smirk, “Maybe you’ll get your wish some day, just as Jerome got his.”  
“No,” I looked at her, smiling cheerily. “I’d rather him suffer with knowing that his child will never trust, nor love him. And he will die as a snivelling old fuck.”  
A burst of laughter sounded beside me as Jerome found amusement in my plan. Tabitha rose her eyebrows, not in a frightened manner, but rather surprise. “I should known something convoluted hid under your serene facade, Forest Ward.”  
“I have been bullied since I was a child, so I know how to ignore bullshit when it hits me like a train.” I said, just as calmly as before. I looked to Jerome fondly, not understanding the events to follow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a few things:  
> 1.) The first scene may seem like a rape or something of that nature, but that is not at all what it's meant to be. Forest has problems if you haven't noticed.  
> 2.) This was really rushed because Jerome's end really hurts.  
> 3.) Jerome dies. Lol. Kill me.

Jerome had me pressed against the tile of the shower, eyes closed and hands on my hips. Water fell down his face and plastered his fiery hair to his pale, freckled skin. He looked calm and content for once. He did this the last time he showered as well, holding me like I was a pillow. I looked up at him, brushing his cheek with my fingers.  
“Jerome,” I say softly, and he opens his eyes. “What are you thinking about?”  
He simply made a murmuring noise, and put his head on my shoulder. I rubbed the back of his head and kissed his ear. I adore you, I would say. I could say. I pull his face up again and stare at him with concern.  
“Jerome,” I say again. He looks up at me like a scolded puppy. “Do you want to play?”  
The man before me lit up immediately and nodded his head. He quickly grabbed onto my thigh, snickering. “I’ve been waiting for you to say something.”  
I gasped and grabbed his hair as he plunged a digit into me. I huffed as he kissed my collarbone and moved down to admire the scars of my chest, pressing his soft lips to the numb tissue. I moan softly and pull his head up to kiss him. He pulls his fingers out of me and pulls my legs up around his waist. I grab onto him and squeeze as his girth fills me.  
He bounces me until I’m a crying mess, mewls of pleasure escaping me. I come and it slips from my mouth before I can catch it. “I love you…”  
His actions come to a halt and he pulls me back to stare at me. His eyes fill with frustration and suddenly my neck is pinned to the tile behind me. My head makes a cracking noise and I attempt to cry out, but his grip is too tight and I’m struggling to breathe.  
“Do not say that to me, ever.” he hisses, pressing into me. Only a choked off whimper left me. His eyes blazed with fury as he pinned my body to the shower wall. I felt pleasure speed up my back again and I wasn’t scared. “Don’t you dare fucking love me!”  
I flinch, heart picking up as he begins to pound into my body. His face is void of any emotion, but he keeps staring at me. He kept fucking into me, and I didn’t stop him as he kept venting, and taking out his anger, “Don’t ever say that you love me.”  
*  
He ended up leaving me in the shower, freezing and fucked out. I sat on the floor, shivering and staring down at my hands in shock as realization overcame me. Jerome probably hated me. I yelled out, hugging myself. I called for someone, anyone.  
Finally my cries were answered and Barbara came rushing in, faltering and looking around for a towel to cover me with. She hurried to me and turned the water off. I was soon covered in the soft fabric and she pulled me close. I sobbed into her shoulder, and she started cooing to calm me down.  
“So, what happened?” Barbara asked me as I sat in a warm blanket, nursing a cup of tea. My panic attack had subsided to a numb sadness that settled in the deepest pit of my chest.  
“Jerome’s personality is just so...beleaguering.” I sigh, looking away.  
“You love him--”  
“Don’t,” I snap, looking up at her with the ferocity of a tiger. “Don’t say it.”  
She stared back at me, stony and sympathetic. I sniffled and I sipped my drink. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and licked her lips before sighing, “Forest, I know you’re scared, and you have no clue how to cope--”  
“I don’t know how to cope?” I choked out a sickened laugh. “Barbie, you are hell bent on getting your cop boyfriend back after killing your parents and almost killing his girlfriend. I know how to cope, Barbara. I’ve actually been treated unlike you lot of fucking lunatics.”  
She grit her teeth and smiled, “Well, I think you should choke on those words. I’m going to get ready.”  
She stands abruptly and heads for the doors, picking up a suitcase and leaving. I was left alone.  
*  
It all happened so fast, I couldn’t keep track of who or where I shot.  
The magic show was entertaining to say the least, but as soon as Detective Gordon emerged from the curtains I was poised to shoot either him or the damned butler. I was going to kill them. Surprisingly, however, it wasn’t them who had made the final blow. It was Theodore Galavan, put a hole in that beautiful neck. Everything froze for a minute, and Jerome slowly fell.  
A scream flew through the room and I realized it was my voice cracking. I lurched forward and ran for him. Theo almost looked surprised as well. I dropped to my knees and pulled Jerome to my chest.  
“Oh god.” I said, grappling onto his wound to stop the bleeding. It wouldn’t stop. Why wouldn’t it stop. “Oh god. Oh god, Jerome. J, please…”  
I sobbed and my tears mingled with the blood running from his lips. In the last couple of seconds, his eyes flicked to me and his breathing was ragged. His hoarse voice was muffled by my own panic but I barely heard it. I read his lips, his perfect smile, “...love...you…”  
I screamed again and looked up to where Theo had been. I drew and shot but I didn’t see any evidence of a bleeding rat in my blinding rage. Dropping the gun, I stared down at Jerome. I cried out for him, willing him to return. My hands traveled to his face, and I almost leaned over before he and I were ripped from each other. I yelled and kicked at the police officer, throwing insults at Gordon and that little brat, Bruce Wayne.  
“Forest Ward, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Theo Galavan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney…”


	6. Epilogue

“How did you manage to get out, Forest?” Barbara asked, her espresso sitting daintily in her fingers as her large sunglasses almost brushed the cup. I chuckled, glancing at her over the top of my own shades. I bit the ring stabbed through my bottom lip and began to explain.  
“It’s easy to explain that you have Stockholm syndrome and were taken hostage by a myriad of special snowflakes. ‘I plead insanity. I realize now that Mr. J was manipulating me to feel and do the things I did.’ See?”  
She raised a brow and smiled, shifting forward to stare at me, “You’re so intelligent. Why aren’t you in college yet, Forest? You were so well composed, but now after his death; look at you. You’ve bleached your hair, pierced yourself. Tell me, is that eyeliner?”  
I scoff and sneer, “I’m only eighteen, and I can do whatever the fuck I want with my life. I could live, or I could follow my boy to the grave.”  
To emphasize the statement, I lifted my sleeves to unveil the deep scars in my arms from so many years ago. She bit her lip and I smiled sweetly, “See, Ms. Kean, everyone else doesn’t understand that. They’re slaves, Barbara. Slaves to the status quo, yanno? In Gotham, we work. There are two types of people, though. Those who work seriously, and those who work through play. Business and drugs, yeah? There’s no actual fun, however. I want to have fun.  
“Why don’t I go to college?” I take my sunglasses off and smirk, eyes boring into that pretty blonde, little bitch.  
“I have other plans, Barbie.”


End file.
